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           Ithinkthereissomethingveryun-Martianaboutsuchasituation.ItputsMikeinadilemma.Dividedloyalty."

           Harshawfrowned."MaybeitshouldbeinvestigatedbytheCommitteeonun-MartianActivities."

           "I’mnotjoking,Jubal."

           "NorwasI–forwemayneedsuchacommitteealltoosoon.IwonderhowMrs.O’Leary’scowfeltasshekickedthelantern?Allright,Jill,yousitdownandI’llre-rigtheexperiment."HarshawhandedtheashtraytoMike."Feelhowheavyitis,son,andseethosesharpcorners."

           Smithexamineditsomewhatgingerly.Harshawwenton,"I’mgoingtothrowitstraightupintheair,cleartotheceiling–andletithitmeintheheadasitcomesdown."

           Mikestaredathim."Mybrother?youwillnowdiscorporate?"

           "Eh?No,no!Itwon’tkillmeandIdon’twanttodie.Butitwillcutmeandhurtme–unlessyoustopit.Herewego!"Harshawtosseditstraightupwithininchesofthehighceiling,trackingitwithhiseyeslikeasoccerplayerwaitingtopasstheballwithhishead.Heconcentratedonwatchingit,whileonepartofhismindwasconsideringjerkinghisheadasideatthelastinstantratherthantakethenastyscalpwoundtheheavy,uglythingwasotherwisesuretogivehim–andanothersmallpieceofhismindreckonedcynicallythathewouldnevermissthischattel;hehadneverlikedit–butithadbeenagift.

           Theashtraytoppeditstrajectory,andstayedthere.

           Harshawlookedatit,withafeelingthathewasstuckinoneframeofamotionpicture.